Chapter 6:

Clarke met Raven's brown eyes, crossing her arms. "I have to know." She said, her eyes widening as she emphasized each word. "I can't think of a worse torture than knowing the person you lo- the person you're supposed to lead with may or may not be dead and I can't think of a worse way for me to end things. Raven…please." She indicated towards the electric fence, "They won't let me out."

"For good reason." Raven said through her squinted eyes as she sized Clarke up, "But if I were you…I would do the same thing—even if it's stupid."

"Thank you." Clarke nodded.

Raven pulled the radio to her mouth, whispering a few words into it before looking at Clarke. "Be safe. You too, Miller."

"We will." It was Nathan that spoke—not Clarke. She wasn't going to make any promises that she couldn't keep. They started off in a jog as to avoid any of the guards that were posted up to keep watch for reapers or stray grounders. Once the trees shielded them, they slowed. "What are you thinking about?"

She couldn't recall the moment she found the forest unattractive. It'd happened along the way when she started to associate the forest with immediate danger. But now—now she saw how beautiful it happened to be. The greenery that surrounded her made her want to smile but she didn't. Her eyes inhaled every detail that surrounded her. The tall grass tickled her legs…and then it didn't because they were walking a more travelled path.

"Nothing important."

She wanted to draw the grass beneath her feet, wanted to draw the streams near the mountain. She wanted to draw the grounder princesses and the people she'd grown to respect as family members. "What is your plan?" Miller questioned.

"I told Bellamy he started this war." Her reply made Miller nervous, "And I guess he fired the first shot when he broke the orders of the Ark to save everyone…sure. But I started this war—it was me. I couldn't stop looking for answers. I couldn't stop and I ended up escaping and then you know the rest." She huffed, "I don't regret it. I don't regret saving the lives of innocent people because you deserved to live but I regret putting that pressure on Bellamy."

"Be honest with yourself, you've put more pressure from this thing on yourself than anyone else." Miller said. "You don't regret saving us. I know that…but be honest with yourself, you regret not dying up there. You let it crush you every single day because you're alive and they're not."

"If we were in Mount Weather—we'd be dead." Clarke responded with the rational answer…but it had little meaning when it came to her actual thought process. Of course she regretted every breath she took—of course she felt guilt for every second she spent here because they were dead and she was alive and she was supposed to be their equal. She was supposed to die in battle—not of old age.

And maybe this was her last battle.

XXX

Bellamy stood in a white room- his complexion outlined by the bland color. He looked dirty and unkempt surrounded by the color despite his clean skin. He smelt the disinfectant—it's odor reminding him of the Ark. He couldn't remember the moments proceeding his capture due to the drugs that pulsed through his system; he didn't know his exact location; he wouldn't sleep and with everything going on, he shouldn't be thinking about her.

But he was.

He was thinking about the last moment they had and how he should have told her he was sorry once more—he should have kissed her tight lipped expression and told her how much he loved her. He should have pulled her aside countless times and done the same thing until she thawed under his warmth. He could say he tried—but how hard? Everyone knew if Bellamy Blake really wanted something, he got it. That's how he got Clarke in the first place…he wanted her. He sought her out. He practically hunted her until he knew she'd fallen for him. Clarke was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid his eyes on—but her beauty was like moonshine and spice gold (a name Monty had given a natural herb he found that caused people to get extremely high)…it didn't hit you, until it had you slammed against a wall with nowhere to go—and you're so gone that you don't know how to walk away anymore.

And if that was her beauty—imagine her love. Her love had been the kindest thing that ever touched him. He never deserved it and if he'd known the intensity of it before he pursued her—he would have ran away like a child. But he didn't. It hit him like her beauty did and he was trapped against that metaphorical wall like a scared animal. He constantly tried to claw at her love—tried to break free but only when he was scared she would leave him. He would be lying if he said he hadn't grown use to it.

Her passion, though…it was probably the best possible thing in the entire world. He literally got pressed against walls and—well, the details are unimportant. Let's just say that Clarke knew what she was doing.

Either way, he refused to accept their last moment as a goodbye even though it was evident that he would have to (he knew that somewhere... he refused to accept death along with a few other things, though.)

His life was coming to an end apparently and all he could think about was her?

God, did he have it bad.

He should be thinking about Octavia—how would she recover? Then, he remembered how strong his sister was and how she could overcome anything and everything that life gave her. He'd spent his entire life living for her.

Then he wasn't living for her and living for himself.

Now—now, he was living for Clarke.

If he didn't make it out of this she would destroy herself. If he didn't make it out of this—her life would end. He didn't want to sound "proud"…he didn't want to sound like this was an achievement (not being able to live without each other). It was just something relatable to a fact.

Sure, Clarke wouldn't hold a gun to her head and pull the trigger. She wouldn't go out like Romeo either—she wouldn't drink the poison that would end her suffering. No, she would run herself to death like a dog because she had to.

He wasn't about to let her do that.

Not for a damn minute.